


The Plant

by castiowl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiowl/pseuds/castiowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a piece I wrote for my creative writing class, which is why Dean and Cas are somewhat out of character. It's an AU wherein Cas is a paramedic and Dean is a firefighter. Things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Plant

Castiel Novak, who lived at 242 B Hanover Avenue, Apartment 430 just two blocks down from Doughnut & Taco Shack #3, was strange. And he was strange in a way that none of his neighbors seemed able to determine. Mr. Moseley, a middle-class plumber with a balding head but a genial attitude, believed Castiel’s awkwardness was a credit to his upbringing. Because of Castiel’s matter-of-fact tone and inability to grasp the concept of sarcasm, his across-the-hall neighbor Mrs. Conway assumed he was just impertinent and rude. The postman perhaps had the best impression of the man. Every morning (through rain and snow and heat and gloom of night except Sundays and government holidays and that one morning he simply didn’t feel like it) Rob Newman passed under Castiel Novak’s apartment window and looked up. The first time it had been because he’d heard a crash of thunder and feared he’d made the wrong decision not bringing an umbrella. Now he looked up because at precisely 8:15 every morning Castiel Novak went to his windowsill and watered a dead plant. It was some sort of leafy shrub that had all but shriveled into nothingness, its once green tendrils now cracked and yellowish. At first the mailman thought little of the habit; perhaps the plant was suffering, not dead. But four months later the ritual continued and the plant only looked more pathetic. 

Before a month ago, no one but Castiel’s own family would have been able to answer the question: What makes Castiel Novak so strange? But that was no longer the case. Dean Winchester was a firefighter who lived on the other side of town who had a liking for fast cars and greasy food. And Castiel was exactly the kind of goody-two-shoes introvert that Dean would have never been caught dead hanging out with. And yet, as the two walked side by side down the dark, empty street, Dean felt pretty damn okay with it. 

The fact was, Castiel had saved his life, and Dean thought he owed something to the nerdy little dude. He wasn’t so conceited as to think that his very presence was a gift to Castiel, but he could tell Castiel didn’t have many friends and to be completely honest, neither did Dean. Castiel denied ever having saved Dean, of course, but Dean knew he was being polite. Or weird. Frankly, it was really hard to tell sometimes.

“I was just doing my job,” Castiel said for possibly the hundredth time. Dean took a bite from a doughnut he’d just bought at the Doughnut & Taco Shack #3, (Dean’s new favorite eatery since he discovered it with the exclamation, “Holy shit there’s two more of these somewhere!”) licked his fingers clean, and gave Castiel a stuffed-full-of-food-faced grin. 

“So you’ve said,” Dean said after swallowing.

It was true that Castiel had been doing his job. He worked as a paramedic and had been called to the scene of the car wreck that Dean had caused, despite what his protests said at the time. (He wasn’t about to admit fault to crashing his dad’s 1967 Chevrolet Impala.) Dean had, for the most part, been unharmed, but Castiel was still thorough, as any Type A personality would be, when checking Dean for a concussion. Castiel noticed an abrasion on Dean’s temple and Dean noticed Castiel’s bright blue eyes. Somehow between then and now Dean had convinced Castiel to let him treat him to a dinner. That dinner had since turned into several dinners and a few lunches over the course of a month.

“I never get this kind of food at home,” Dean said. He crumpled the fast food bag and tossed it into a trash bin they passed while walking down High Street towards Castiel’s apartment. “Sam’s always bringing home healthy shit like salad. Who the hell eats salad?”

“Your brother, apparently.” 

“Yeah, well, he’s a dick. You’re lucky to be an only child, man. Siblings are a pain in the ass.”

Castiel looked at Dean with a puzzled expression. “I’m not an only child. I have five brothers.”

Dean was taken aback. “Five brothers?” He whistled low and ran a hand through his short, brown hair, trying to imagine what having five Sams around the house would’ve been like. “I really always pegged you as an only child. The weird ones always seem to have grown up alone. The arsonists, armed robbers… something about a lack of peer-driven social interaction.” He shrugged.

“I’m not an arsonist or an armed robber,” Castiel said matter-of-factly.

“No, but you are a friggin’ weirdo.”

Castiel stuck his hands in his pant pockets and said nothing, staring straight down the road ahead. 

“I mean that in a good way,” Dean added with a sideways glance. He knocked his arm against Castiel’s. “Weirdos are great. So long as they don’t start fires. Though if you did start one then I could totally return the favor by saving your life.”

“You want me to start a fire so you can put it out?”

“Exactly. Then we’d be even.”

“But I was just-“

“Doing your job, yeah. I know.” Dean breathed in the smoggy night air. The street was quiet; it was a residential area and there wasn’t a whole lot of traffic after eight. Castiel’s apartment was up on the right. Dean had been inside on three different occasions but only long enough for Castiel to grab his car keys or a jacket and leave again. What Dean had noticed most about his apartment was that it looked like it belonged to someone else. A woman, to be exact. The walls were a light green with accenting furnishings, the kind you only find in interior décor stores, like bowls full of painted glass orbs that serve no actual purpose. The real giveaway was the lacy curtains over the windows. Dean recalled seeing underneath one such window a rotted, long-dead plant, which had issued a soft laugh from him. He doubted Castiel even knew it was there. 

“So what’s your family like, then? Are you… the youngest?” Dean asked.

Castiel hesitated. “Yes. All of my brothers are older. And I love them all.”

“But?” Dean said with a little smile.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I love Sam but he’s a pain in the ass know-it-all who makes me want to throw myself off a ten-story building. That’s what siblings are. They’re the rock in your shoe but for some godforsaken reason you’re glad they’re there.”

Castiel was staring at Dean with rapt attention, his brow furrowed in concentration as if he were some intricate puzzle he was fitting together. “I like all my brothers. Michael and Lucifer are the oldest. Twins. Then Raphael, Gabriel, and Inias.” He counted them off on long, pale fingers.

“You’ve got the whole bible there, I think.”

Castiel smiled at that. “My father was incredibly devout. My mother… well, she wasn’t around very much. Sometimes I believed his faith was not in God so much as it was in a prayer for my mother returning.”

“Sorry,” Dean said.

“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

“No. No, I just mean that sucks that you didn’t have a mom. Mine died when I was five so I don’t remember a lot, but I remember I loved her.” 

An uncomfortable silence ensued that Dean wasn’t sure how to break, but they made it to the steps of Castiel’s apartment before he could really start to worry he’d said something wrong. 

“Well, I guess I’d better head home,” Dean said, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. 

“You could come in if you’d like,” Castiel said quickly. Dean swore he even flushed a little, but he had turned away before Dean could really tell.

“Hell yeah.” Dean smiled and followed Castiel into the building.

The thing Dean liked most about Castiel, despite his mocking protests, was his total lack of social etiquette. It made it easier for Dean to open up knowing that there was nothing he could say that would offend Castiel without knowing about it soon after. No topic of conversation was out of bounds. Sitting on Castiel’s couch, his feet up on the coffee table, Dean truly felt at home. Behind him, in the kitchen, the sink was on and dishes clinked together as Castiel washed them. It all felt very domestic, something Dean had sworn off a number of times. He could practically see Sam’s I-told-you-so expression, and he smiled to himself.

“Do you want anything?” Castiel was standing behind the couch now, drying his hands on a towel.

“Uh, no. I’m all right. Thanks. You’ve got a nice place.” He wanted to ask about the feminine aspects but still felt like he was crossing some sort of line there.

Castiel glanced around the cozy room but didn’t reply. Somewhere, a phone rang and Castiel went away to answer it. When he came back a few minutes later, he was donning his work clothes: a black polo with the paramedic crest on the side and dark slacks. 

“I have to fill in for someone at work. I hope you don’t mind,” he said.

Dean nodded and got up from the couch. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I go?”

Castiel hesitated. “I’m already running late…”

“I can see myself out. No worries. You go ahead.”

Castiel’s jaw clenched, his face pinched in consternation before he finally said, “Okay.”

“Chill out, Cas. I’m not gonna burn your place down. Promise.” Dean put a comforting hand on his shoulder before wandering off into the bathroom.

When he came out, Castiel was gone. He let out a breath and had to physically fight the urge to snoop around before grabbing his jacket and, making sure the door was locked behind him, he left. 

The next day, he drove to his father’s work. John Winchester was the co-owner of the mid-sized law firm Winchester & Hykes located downtown right between a real estate office and a frozen yoghurt place that seemed to cater to the urban population called “Yo-Gurl.” John was a severe looking man with thin lips, a constantly stern expression, and salt and pepper hair. He didn’t glance up from his paperwork when Dean sauntered into his small corner office. 

“Sam said you didn’t come home after work yesterday.”

“What, so Sam’s my keeper now? I went to dinner with a friend,” Dean said. He was on the defensive despite the fact that the reason he was there in the first place was related to that friend.

“A friend?” John looked up at his son with a deadpan look. 

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned against the threshold of the office door. “Yeah, Dad, a friend. I’m 24. I can have friends without your knowing.”

John studied him for a moment before focusing his attention back on the binder of legal papers in his hand. “Name?” he asked.

“Castiel.”

“The paramedic?”

Dean would be lying if he said the name Castiel hadn’t come up every so often. Annoyingly so, according to Sam. 

“Yeah, the paramedic. Dad, do we have to do this?” The conversation was a long time coming. Normally Dean didn’t wait as long as a month to bring up a guy but Castiel was different. He was fragile, for lack of a better word, and it meant a lot to Dean that his family appreciate him for all of his… quirks. 

Every boy since Dean’s freshman year of high school had undergone close familial scrutiny since he’d come out of the metaphorical closet. He had never actually said he was gay, his dad and brother just picked up on it and not a whole lot changed from there. Dean was grateful for that much, at least. He could just do without the awkward boyfriend interview.

“Invite him to dinner this weekend,” John said with an air of finality. 

Dean’s phone vibrated. He saw the name Castiel light up on the screen and said, “Sure. I gotta get this.” He excused himself and wandered into the lobby. Castiel had never called him before and Dean tempered his expectations appropriately. “Hey, Cas. What’s – ?”

His casual greeting was cut short by an indecipherable outcry of what may have been insults, though Castiel was speaking so fast and harshly that Dean hardly heard a word of it. 

“Whoa, whoa, what the hell, man? Is everything okay?” A stony silence met his reply. “Cas?” Dean coaxed.

“It would be better for both of us,” said Castiel, each word cool and calculated, “if we went back to the way things were.”

“I… what?” 

“It was very nice to meet you, Dean. Please don’t ever contact me again.” There was a beep and Dean stared at the screen of his phone that was blinking red words at him: CALL ENDED.

“What…?” he breathed. Without a second thought, he headed out the door of Winchester & Hykes, got in his car, and drove towards Castiel’s apartment. Infuriatingly, traffic and weekend residents forced Dean to park two full blocks away. He walked quickly, hands clenched into fists at his sides, trying to gauge what had just happened. The only word he could recollect from the phone call didn’t make any sense: plant. He wasn’t really sure why this was so important to him, anyway, this friendship or whatever it was, because honestly he hadn’t let himself think past that. Part of him felt guilty regardless of the fact that he had no idea what he could have possibly done to upset him, simply because it was a key part of his personality to take blame for things he didn’t necessarily do. He knew he should let this go. Or at the most, write a strongly worded e-mail. But his feet felt otherwise as he sidestepped a stranger on the sidewalk and continued his spree towards Castiel’s apartment.

An angry mantra was circling through his mind: You’re a fucking idiot, Dean. You’ve screwed it up again, Dean. Way to go, Dean.

At some point he realized he wasn’t the only one chiding himself. 

“Hey, idiot, get in the fucking car. Dean. Car. Now.”

Dean stopped and searched for a voice. He spotted a light blue 1950 Mercury convertible keeping pace with him on the road. The man driving the car was only a little older than Dean with shoulder-length blond hair and he appeared to be smoking a cigarette. 

“Get in the fucking car, Dean,” the man said again.

Dean frowned. 

“Do you want to find out why Castiel is mad at you or not?”

Dean swallowed hard, jogged to the car, and got in. The driver sped up, driving past Castiel’s apartment. Dean looked back and pursed his lips. “Who are you?” he asked, turning to the man.

“Gabriel,” the man said with a smile. He stuck his left hand out to Dean who shook it awkwardly. Dean realized that what he had taken to be a cigarette was actually a lollipop. Apparently Castiel’s entire family was… unique. 

“Castiel’s brother?”

“The attractive one, yeah,” Gabriel said. He had one arm resting on the steering wheel and his whole demeanor bled aplomb. It made Dean want to punch him if he were being honest with himself, but he took a breath and instead asked, “You know why Castiel’s mad at me?”

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel replied. He turned down an unfamiliar street and sped, going straight through two yellow lights, before doing an unusually fast and skilled parallel parking job in front of some flower shop called J&T Flowers. He turned the car off and looked at Dean. “You took his dead plant.”

“I… what?”

“The plant in his apartment? Dead thing in the window? You stole it. I don’t know why but it was kind of a dick move. Moreso than you know, really.”

“I didn’t touch anything in his apartment. I didn’t go near that plant, I swear!”

Gabriel tutted. “No use lying to me, Dean. I know the truth. Look, even if it wasn’t you and the plant just happened to disappear of its own accord, there’s still a missing plant.”

“Why would I take a dead plant?” Dean asked as calmly as possible.

“Castiel never told you about our sister, did he?” Before Dean could answer, Gabriel waved his hand and said, “No, of course he didn’t. Not even to you. Though God knows he might have in time, he talks about you nonstop. It is honestly disgusting.” 

“Castiel has a sister?”

Gabriel nodded once. “Anna. She died two years ago in a car crash.”

“Oh.”

“There’s something you gotta understand, here. She was our sister, but she was Castiel’s twin. His best friend, really, since real friends were hard to come by for him. He’s just so damn awkward, y’know? Anyway, that apartment he’s in? That’s her apartment. Her disgusting yellow couch and girly curtains and well, for Cas, it’s the only thing left of her. That apartment and all the weird, impractical things in it are more important to Cas than his own life, probably. Including that stupid plant Anna had…”  


“I saw that plant,” Dean realized. “I just thought Cas had forgotten it was there or something.”

“On the contrary, he coddles that dead thing like a human child.”

“Well, I didn’t touch the plant. I don’t know where it went but I swear I didn’t take it. Why would I want a dead plant?” Dean said.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not here to judge, Dean. I’m here to help. Just get Castiel a new plant. Lie. Say your brother is a herbologist with some magic plant medicine and he repaired Anna’s plant.” 

“How do you know I have a brother? I… A new plant…?” Dean was trying to keep up but at this point he was thinking he might as well just go with it.

“Like I said, Cassy doesn’t stop talking about you. Which is why I’m even bothering here, okay? He clearly likes you so this is your get out of jail free card. Cas is neurotic and he’s got a few triggers. You happened to trip the biggest one so here’s thirty bucks. Get in there, get Ardisia Humilis. I gotta go, so catch a cab back.”

Dean got out and watched the classic car speed away, clutching a wad of cash in his hand. He turned toward the surprisingly crowded flower shop and went inside.

He knew what this plant meant to Castiel. After losing his mom, Dean hardly let go of that stuffed lion she’d given him for his birthday. And this was a sibling. Losing Sam was the worst possible thing Dean could imagine and he didn’t envy Castiel that pain.

Standing in front of Castiel’s apartment door, Dean was beginning to regret his decision. Just when he was sure Castiel wasn’t going to answer and he was stupid for showing up at all, the door opened. Castiel was dressed in his work clothes and he looked angrier than Dean had ever seen him, though to be fair, Dean had never seen him angry to begin with. He was pale and stern and had five o’clock shadow that made him seem overtired and a little sick. 

“Castiel, I swear to God I did not touch that plant. I don’t know what happened to it but I would never do something like that. Your brother told me about Anna and how much she meant to you and you have to believe me I would never ever touch anything of yours that you didn’t specifically tell me I could. Gabriel told me to lie to you and tell you I somehow fixed your plant but I was pretty sure you’d know I was lying and I couldn’t find the right plant anyway so I got you this.” Dean’s words came tumbling out like word vomit and to his bewilderment, Castiel looked pleased.

“Gabriel told me,” Castiel said.

“He… what?”

Castiel stepped back a little to reveal Gabriel standing in the kitchen snacking on something with a content look about him. “Hey Dean,” he said with a wave of his hand.

“Gabriel was the one who took that plant,” Castiel said. “I’m not happy about it.” He turned and glared at his brother, his jaw clenched. “I’m sorry that this was your first impression of my family,” he added, turning back to Dean.

“Oh. That’s… okay.”

Gabriel wandered over to the door and peered over Castiel’s shoulder at what Dean was holding in his hands. “A cactus. Great choice,” he said approvingly. 

“Yeah, that store didn’t have that… ardisia thing. So…”

“Oh, I know,” Gabriel said. He smiled widely, took the pot from Dean, and headed into the living room.

“You… know?” Castiel stepped back and Dean followed Gabriel into the room where he was placing the pot on the windowsill.

“It’s actually the only place that doesn’t sell it, I think,” Gabriel said. 

“You… did that on purpose? Wait. You… Did you set me up? I… Why?” Dean asked. 

“Think of it as a test. Or… whatever. Okay? Look, Cassy. I really gotta go. I’ll catch ya later. Oh, and Dean, now is the perfect time to ask Cas to join you for that family dinner.” He winked at Dean before stepping out and closing the apartment door behind him.

“How did he…?” Dean shook his head and decided he’d asked enough questions for one day.

“I am… really sorry for that,” Castiel said, turning to Dean.

“Yeah. I was worried about you meeting my family but now I don’t feel so bad.”

“He shouldn’t have blamed you. To be honest, I’m sort of glad it happened. Losing Anna was… hard. It’s been difficult trying to move on. I don’t really… um…”

“Hey, it’s fine. I get it. Really, I do. And the cactus? Only have to water it, like, once a month. So, it’s unlikely to die unless you’re really that bad at keeping plants.”

Castiel smiled. “It’s perfect. Thanks, Dean.”


End file.
